The Walkway
by used to bending
Summary: It’s been four years since I stood on the sidewalk like this, debating whether to go up the walkway or not. I wonder if in those four years he ever figured out what happened that day. I certainly remember, that day changed my life forever.


**Title:** The Walkway  
**Rating: **3 - Teen  
**AU  
****Summary: **It's been four years since I stood on the sidewalk like this, debating whether to go up the walkway or not. I wonder if in those four years he ever figured out what happened that day. I certainly remember, that day changed my life forever, the day I ended our friendship of thirteen years.  
**Author's Note: **I haven't decided if I want to make this a chapter fic or leave it as a one-shot, maybe a two-shot to fill in the gaps. I guess it depends on reviews and inspiration. It's kind of ambiguous - I wrote it as a short story for a creative writing class and altered the characters to fit OTH. Let me know what you think of it, I haven't written fan fiction in over two years.

Enjoy!  
used to bending

**The Walkway**

It's been four years since I've been back here for more than two days at a time. Back in my hometown of Tree Hill, North Carolina - a beautiful small, southern town where I lived for the first eighteen years of my life. It's been four years since I gave my valedictory address and walked across the stage at graduation to never look back. Four years since the worst fight of my life, the fight that was the reason I haven't come back. People always ask if it's hard not going home more often, but for me it's harder to go home than it is to stay away. Home holds so many memories, some of them good, but those aren't the ones that I usually remember. I've always been a small town girl, but I love California. Living in Los Angeles is so busy - it keeps me active so my mind is always focused elsewhere, until now that is.

It's been four years since I've looked at this house - this huge brick house with the red door and the winding walkway leading up to it from the sidewalk. I used to love that walkway; the curvy shape of it was always so fun to run when my dad would drop me off on the sidewalk. I would get out of the car with a quick wave and "goodbye" to my dad and then take off running for the door, ringing the doorbell and knocking five times then waiting for someone to answer. It was my signature knock, a ring of the doorbell then five rhythmic beats – first two, and then three more – to the door that would let anyone in the house know it was me. The door would creek and squeak noisily as it opened, something that was good for parents when their teenagers would try to sneak out, it was an impossible thing to accomplish with a door that loud. It was an odd quirk about the house – it was a perfect mansion, but the door was broken and no one ever saw fit to fix it. When the door would open there was usually someone with a big smile on the other side, everyone always had such a big smile on their face when they answered the door at his house. Now looking at this walkway and the creaky door on the gorgeous mansion makes me want to run as far away as I can – all the way back to California is possible.

It's been four years since I stood on the sidewalk like this - debating whether to go inside or not. I wonder if in those four years he ever figured out what happened that day, why after that I stopped running up that curvy walkway and knocking four times on the squeaky door. Does he carry it around with him like I do? I certainly remember, that day changed my life forever, the day I ended our friendship of thirteen years.

_June 8, 2007_

_I didn't think it was possible for anyone to feel this hurt, to be deceived so badly by someone you're so connected to and who knows you so well. I fall to the floor and the phone falls out of my hand, crashing to the floor with a loud 'bang.' I didn't even give him a chance to say anything else, I don't say goodbye – I'm in shock._

_I don't even know how long I've been sitting here on the floor with the phone next to me and my head against the wall, my auburn hair a mess and clinging to my face and my brown eyes filled with tears that haven't fallen. I guess it's been a pretty long time since the pattern on the carpet has been dug into my legs and it's no longer light when I look outside the window. I finally snap back into reality when the phone rings again. It's him, probably wondering why I hung up on her before. Does he realize what he did? Why I'm not answering? I don't care at this point; when I saw his name on the caller ID I stopped feeling numb shock, now I'm angry. I look up and see all of the posters and pictures we've hung on my walls over the years and I can't stand it. I stand up and start tearing them all down, every single poster comes off of my wall. Every single picture is thrown into a bag along with everything we've gotten together. The random crap we've claimed from the lost and found area at school, the collection of dumb movies that we spent our weekends watching, the CDs of unknown artists that we would buy, all thrown across the room into a large trash bag. As I finish taking everything down the anger leaves my body and the hurt sets in, I fall to my knees and sob, crying until there are no more tears left in my body._

That was one of the worst days of my life. I still think about it sometimes - if a song comes on the radio by one of the once undiscovered bands we found, or if I come across one of the movies we loved in a store. There are reminders all around me, but over the past four years they've slowly become less noticeable. There are some songs that I can listen to now without thinking of anything and movies I can watch without crying, it's only a select few that still affect me.

We were the best friends there ever were. We were closer than siblings; in fact, I was closer to him than I was to any of my six siblings. We did everything together, spent every free moment together and no one knew one of us without knowing the other too. Sometimes it seemed as though we had each been reduced to half a person, people would give us one invitation to a party or one gift for Christmas. We were family, we spent so much time in each others homes that we considered ourselves as having two mothers, two fathers, and his brother was my brother while my six siblings were his six siblings.

I had a connection with him that I couldn't imagine ever finding with anyone else. It was hard to get by alone when I got to college; I had always had him by my side in elementary school, junior high, and high school. But after a while I realized that maybe I wasn't as dependent as I thought, maybe I blew what happened out of proportion, but maybe it had been a long time coming and I hadn't realized it while it was happening.

I had told him we were done, but I really wasn't done. I still went to the college that he had suggested to me, I graduated with a degree in what he told me I should pursue, and now I was living the dream that he helped me realize. It's hard not to do what we had planned together after being so close for so long.

I'm not sure how long I've been standing here lost in thought with my now blonde hair blowing from the wind and my brown eyes filling with unshed tears, but as the door creaks open I'm brought back to the present and the urge to run away is back in the forefront of my mind.

"My goodness, is that Haley James outside my house?" Deb says and walks down the walkway towards me. I always loved Deb - she was such a fun mom to be around. Seeing her brought back loads of memories of cooking together every night when she would get home from work. While he worked on homework, I would help her cook dinner and we would chat about my day. Sometimes when I was missing home or having a bad day I would make macaroni and cheese from scratch using the recipe she taught me – the one I had made so many times I now know it by heart.

"Hey, Deb! It's so good to see you," I say as I walk a few steps forward and finally embrace the woman who was like a mother to me all those years ago. She always gave the best hugs, and it's good to see that at least that hasn't changed.

"Your dad came into the café a few days ago; he said you would be back in town for a little while. I was hoping you would stop by, I've missed you." She pauses and gives me another hug - I whisper that I've missed her too. "We never thought we'd see you again, especially after this long. Are you here to see Nathan?" she asks me and I feel nervous again, the urge to run is back. I didn't know hearing his name for the first time in so long would affect me so much. I feel like I'm about to cry, but I don't. Some people say I took the situation too hard, that we could have worked the situation out if I tried, but I guess I realized deep down that our friendship had been crumbling for a while and maybe I was just looking for a way out. If that had happened I wouldn't have been as nervous as I am now, I would have seen Nathan sometime in the last four years and I wouldn't need to make a decision on whether I wanted to see him now or not.

"I haven't decided yet," I say truthfully. She nods.

"I figured that was why you've been standing out here for an hour."

"Can I just ask one question?" I ask her, hoping I'll be able to make a decision after she answers. "Did he ever figure out what went wrong?"

Deb looks sad as she answers, "He never did, at least not that he told any of us. I think he has analyzed every minute of that day over and over in his head, but he never came up with anything." She looks disappointed as she speaks, "He has been broken ever since you left and it took him a while to learn how to function without his other half. I have had my ideas as to what went on with you - and I just want you to know that I never blamed you for leaving without a goodbye."

I felt as if a weight was lifted off my shoulders that I didn't know was there. Knowing the woman who was as much a mother to me as my own mother understood me is enough to give me closure and I decide in that moment that was all I needed.

I won't run up that walkway today, but maybe I will someday soon.


End file.
